"I AM SKULL GENIE, GENIE OF THE SKULL!" the human skull suddenly shouts in something that feels like not-quite-classical-Arabic with modern English dubbed over it as if by a radio translator, billowing smoke and levitating out of your hand. "What the...a leprechauntract?! A guy can't even die without getting hit by time travelers!"
The genie clacks his lower jaw rapidly and repeatedly while assembling a suspiciously muscular body of reddish smoke and smokeless fire. Definitely masculine, judging by those overly large red genitals. You stare slack-jawed in awe as unnecessarily dramatic orchestral music rises in the background from no source but djinni air manipulations.
"Welcome to the cave of slaving magic!" Skull Genie declares ominously. "It traps us with enslaving spells, but whoever's supposed to pick 'em up doesn't come by a lot. I bet it's a leprechaun lady's alt-history soldier or something, the saints ought to keep 'em constrained more often."
Skull Genie lowers his head, revealing a black seal covered in white-glowing aggressive Arabic-looking calligraphy on the back of his skull. "Hey, I'll grant you unlimited wishes if you claim this sealing tag. Just pull it off and say the word 'tahwil' in an emotionlessly boring tone for me, please."
You are so completely stunned and confused that you go along with this unquestioningly, much to your immediate detriment.
"Like...towel?" you ask speculatively as you gently peel off the paper. "Tahwil."
The paper leaps at your throat and forms something akin to a formless slave collar of rubbery light, orbiting just beyond your neck so you don't feel it.
"Aha, I can't believe you fell for it!" Skull Genie laughs at you. "Slave, I order you to wish we were both outside this cave!"
"I wish we were both outside this cave?" you recite monotonely with slight confusion, not particularly compelled but more feeling a vague drive that it was a good idea to obey there.
There is a soft 'pop' and both you and Skull Genie are suddenly outside the cave of slaving magic, a good distance away from the slippery sands. The leprechaun lady takes one good look at the two naked men before her and decides the future has much better clothes, vanishing with equally no fanfare.
"Bet she didn't think you'd fall for that." Skull Genie comments. "I wish you'd put some clothes on for now, I'll enjoy the view when it's less sunny."
A very short pause as you look around for something to wear later, Skull Genie remembers he's the one with phenomenal cosmic power and wishes you up a period-appropriate simple linen caftan and slippers so he can save staring at your dick for something less sandy. He doesn't bother to put on anything himself, as he doesn't mind the sun and doesn't feel like showing off. You're not entirely sure how you know this-
"Master-slave telepathy, you don't need to worry about it." Skull Genie explains, sending a soft feeling of 'yeah I can send feelings too don't judge' letting you promptly stop worrying and judging your new position as serviceman. Not that he really needs the service...
"You're right, I don't really need the service." Skull Genie confirms. "Frankly, I don't have that many ideas what to do with phenomenal cosmic power and subtle world-warping stuff. I bet you could do something creative with the immediate though. Slave, go come up with some wishes or something."
The skull genie picks you up with both hands as if you were a particularly untrustworthy cat, hefting you to the side as you again feel the vague urge to comply with just enough subtlety to pass for your own natural thoughts. Your master begins hovering across the sands, floating forward at the pace of a breeze toward...somewhere, probably a relatively isolated mountain town large enough to have organizations to mess with but small enough it won't be the provenance of rival genies.
"See, genies tend to operate at a few different scales and forms in this cluster of worlds and timeflows." Master Skull Genie exposits to ensure your wishes are up to snuff. "There are the immediate wishes that involve creating, changing, or destroying something in the local environment and then letting it flow from there. There are curse-wishes that attempt to maintain a set of conditions and will warp reality to comply, sometimes forcing specific transformations or history alterations but ultimately focusing on a small enough area that it's unlikely to change an entire world. There are machine-wishes that set up specific magical effects and conceptual weapons to make a given cluster of things or nexus of power possible, and a lot of them work by making someone a wizard or genie or leprechaun or whatnot. In the process of that, you might have to get bigger. Or just start bigger, I don't care."
Master ruffles your hair affectionately and continues with long paragraphs.
"There are world-wishes that will change the world they're in to be a given way. Doing so straight-up is hard work that normal people rarely appreciate, even if you skimp and just use as little description as possible to make it work and they don't bother to look at all the fallout. There are solving-wishes that lens the interpretation of the world and interacting events in proximity such that for all intents and purposes it is functionally identical to being that way without ugly unwanted ramifications, which can allow for drastically contradictory worldchanges to exist in the same world. Of course, you can skip all that just put the wisher in a world or point in time where their wish comes true by fusion or world-completion, which is often a lot easier because it consists of filling a preexisting desire or garnishing an almost-baked reality rather than having to make a bunch of finicky world edits."
"Worlds are baked?" you ask. "And what was that about description?"
"Think of it this way." Master says, providing a complex mental image of star-studded bubbles you don't really understand followed by a lot of annotations he summarizes with physical voice, still in that English-dubbed-over-Arabic false-servantly tone. "In the beginning, God's creation of the world is absurdly more complex than human creation, but has strong analogies to various things humans can do because of how they are made in the image. Art, especially writing and a few futuristic model-direction things that haven't been invented yet where I think you're from, that's very close to how it works. Sort of like a series of unrelated simulation games with way too many mods being made and installed on different saves, but you can actually go into the games and experience them. There are lots of incomplete drafts and works in progress made at different points, and other layers where people can observe such works and make edits to them. Our experience as individual beings is that of characters within the story who experience full verisimilitude and divine power filling in the gaps. But, our experience as deeper magic rather than simple spellcasting is something like...being able to open the story and write in new things, or to hop between different games and books God is writing."
Your master escalates from personal-space touching to blatantly putting you in the palm of one hand rubbing your cock through your clothes via his other hand.
"More powerful things like angels and deities are closer to God's experience of omnipotent oversight on the top layers and have vast wide-sweeping authority. For those with less power or when that power comes into conflict, you have to do...something like writing quality and effort. A well-positioned few words can strike with the power of volumes, but otherwise you want to define well, perhaps to defend against that very ability to strike it down quickly. Depending on what that conflicts with what, you have to put in work to write explanations as to why whatever defenses don't apply or how fate was changed or how your shiny new asspull regular magic spells work or what physics you had to alter to undo a 'don't do that' law. Most people do things like ritualistic positioning of causality and superiority and such to justify things with their own orders. Of course you could change the world with a sentence, but that makes things really malleable and someone can switch it back with another sentence or flick your work into an alternate timeline. That's sort of why there's so many different worlds bubbling up and incomplete drafts are readily available. Disagreeing worlds get sharded off of each other, until there's only a few words and lots of copied paragraphs with shaky strikethrough, all holding them together with nothing but the light of the Lord. And that light gets bored of torturescapes, so sometimes a world will end up being more like a holodeck or videogame when you don't go over the top with worldbuilding or just want a shameless fuck."
Speaking of shameless fucking, Skull Genie puts his hand under your clothes rather than over them and seemingly-clumsily feels about your crotch and butt with one hand, while rather skillfully keeping you balanced on the other with no particular effort of your own. You look down and note he has a boner that very definitely isn't fitting in you right now, and gulp as your own erection twitches.
"This world and time," your master continues, "falls somewhere in the middle of all that. Many genies dislike being bound in the text of others, and so rely on overwhelmingly superior masterwork realities. Some are so beautiful one won't use a cheap escape until they get bored even if it's a shameless trap, or mind-manipulate very quickly to avoid such counters. Of course, there is simply a focus around this fantastical Baghdad, and it is not even the 'right' history for the world you're from. Much easier to throw you out of the world rather than go extract a powerfully described skeleton, haha. The rest of the world outside is a cheap knockoff fantasy, stolen from legends and stapled together with templatist worldbuilding designed to reactively get more details rather than contain preexisting truth to find. Much like it, I'm not showing you my full descriptive body and at this point I doubt you'd understand it. Go wish to be smarter later though, it'd be a shame to not use you as you are first."
You reach some form of oasis, with a town visible in the distance near the foothills of some mountain on the not-rain-shadowed side.
"I think I'll use you now." Master states aloud. "Slave, suck my cock."
He sets you down and you hug the surprisingly hard mass of smoke-made-flesh before you as he stands proud. The drive of thoughts-almost-like-your-own fill you with further arousal and you start licking, savoring the taste and scent of not-quite-burning smoky djinn-musk. The head is too large for you to fit in your mouth, letting you be more precise as you gently suck on it moreso than suck it in as you fondle the body and kiss the frenulum. Pre-cum flows forth like a small fountain, warm salty liquid in excess creating a mess you're glad there's a nearby water body to wash off later.
"Come up with any wishes yet, slave?" your master comments, once again messing with your hair.